Honor Among Thieves
by Jones
Summary: Crossover fic featuring Lupin III. Beck and Lupin battle to steal the same memories while evading the military police, shifty women, and nosey negotiators.
1. Act 01: Smalltime Crooks

**Honor Among Thieves**

_By Jones_

  
  


Act 01: Small-time Crooks

  
  


Relief. Yes, that was the feeling he felt, relief. It felt so good to relieve himself of that pressure, that wholly unnecessary pressure than had been weighing upon him for so long. He let out a sigh.

The man standing next him glanced over, then down, then grinned. His contentment suddenly drained away, now that the man next to him was outperforming him. He sighed again, this time out of irritation.

He shook, the sort of shake that's almost the slightest jump, then zipped up his pants, before reaching into his jacket and extracting a black pistol. He pointed the gun down at the man next to him, whose attention had returned to his own business.

_**BLAM!**_ The man next to him screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground, curling into a fetal position and clutching what remained of his genitals. The sharp crack of the pistol firing rang in Beck's ears as he holstered his gun. "You win the pissin' contest," he conceded, motioning toward the urinals that were now spattered with blood with a grin. "But I win the _shootin'_ contest."

Beck then made a quick check of his fine yellow suit, making sure that none of the poor man's blood soiled it. It simply wouldn't do to have his favorite suit ruined by some dumb bastard that didn't know who he was outpissing. He pulled a comb through his hair and returned it to his pocket. "You might want to get that looked at, pally," he said as he stepped through the door.

  
  


"What a way to celebrate my first day as a free man," Beck said as he strode from the bathroom, absently wiping his hands on a paper towel. He brushed past a waiter, leaving the used paper towel on the poor man's tray and walked back to his table where his three cronies, his associates, his loyal henchmen [and woman], and that mysterious blonde woman that was always hanging around Crow Boy and Rosewater, were still seated.

"How does it feel, Mr. Gold," she looked up from her salad, "to be a free man again?"

He looked at her curiously, though one might have mistaken it for irritation, before losing his composure. He snickered, he chuckled, eventually losing control and laughing loudly. Soon his "associates" had joined him and the four of them were cackling almost crazily. After a few moments, he fought for a degree of control again and managed to almost keep a straight face. "You're kidding, right?" he chuckled. "This is great! Now I can get that damned negotiator and that stupid doll of his back for what they've done to me."

"How noble," the woman deadpanned.

"Of course, my lady, and I owe it all to you." He took her hand and kissed it, which she promptly snatched away. She glared at him. "Now what, might I ask, am I to call my savior?"

Her glare softened, just a bit. "Please, Mr. Gold, call me Angel."

"Pleased to meet you, miss Angel," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He pretended to bow a bit, then turned for the door, just in time to hear a cry of "oh my God!" from the men's room.

---

Paradigm City was certainly something to behold, with its great domes towering above all else, interrupting the skyline with their graceful curves. Beneath those domes rose many buildings, both old and new. Some of the grander buildings, especially in the Central Dome, were lesser skyscrapers, while the outer domes housed more modest structures.

Outside the domes, where many of the tallest and oldest buildings were, however, sat many structures, almost entirely old and in varying states of disrepair. Many of the once grand towers, once banks or offices or something of a similar sort, lay in ruin, although a few were still usable. The most prevalent sort, though, were those that one would associate with a neighborhood within a major city - apartment blocks and local groceries, that sort of thing.

The farther from the domes one went, the worse the state of the city. Indeed, only the city's wealthiest could live within the domes, with their artificial sun and clean, well-kept buildings and streets. Each was like a specific district within the city - one commercial, another residential, and so on, though, all of the city's industrial space was still outside the domes. Those outside the domes, however, were predictably of the lower class, for the most part. Nothing but everyday people leading everyday lives, albeit without any memory of the past.

Ah, yes, that was the key to it all. Memories. With them, people lived, and without they died. Or so said Paradigm, which was all at once business, state, and god. Paradigm had risen up and rebuilt the city after the Event 40 years ago, either from memories that it's then CEO Gordon Rosewater possessed, or by his wit and ability to exploit those who _thought_ he retained or recovered some memories.

Welcome to Paradigm City, the city of amnesia, the city where people live and die by memories.

---

"So, tell us about this big score you found."

Lupin glanced over his shoulder at Goemon with a grin, "It's the biggest sort of score around. Here," he said, returning his attention to the road, "I'll give you a hint: what's the thing people value the most in this city?"

Goemon looked to Jigen, who sat before him, and the gunman simply shrugged. Then he looked, with a touch of reluctance, to his right, where Fujiko sat. She blinked in confusion.

"Oh, I can't believe you guys!" Lupin cried, exasperated, throwing his hands into the air. The car began to drift to the left and nearly collided with a black sedan driving in the opposite direction [driven by a black-clad man with unusual eyebrows], which luckily swerved to avoid him, before he thought to grab the wheel. "Ergh," he grunted as he straightened the car out. "Don't you know anything? Think about it!" None of his companions replied. "Oh, hell. It's _memories_, guys! You know as well as I do that this whole damn city runs on them! Everybody wants their lost memories!"

"Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot," Jigen mumbled. Goemon snorted at that.

"Fine, you guys. Let's just get back to the hotel and I'll explain what I have in mind."

They drove in silence for a moment, eventually passing a military police convoy. "Would you look at that," Jigen said, watching the passenger of one of the patrol cars. 

"What?" Lupin raised an eyebrow, still watching the road in front of him.

"It's Pops."

_"What?"_ Lupin slammed on the brakes and everybody lurched forward at the abruptness of the stop. "Zenigata? Here? _How?"_ Jigen shrugged and tipped the brim of his hat up, trying to get a better look at the car that was certainly too far away to see into by that point. Lupin sighed and put car back into gear. "Man, that guy really needs a girlfriend or something."

---

Major Dan Dastun glared at the car's other passenger through the corner of his eye. Damned Paradigm Main Office sent him another special investigator to deal with, and a stupid-looking one at that. Who, he wondered, could be so lacking in style to dress like _that_, anyway? The weathered old brown trenchcoat and hat were such a cliché that any self-respecting cop would laugh. This guy couldn't be for real.

"Like I said, Major," Zenigata said, "we're dealing with quite a criminal here. This man's wanted for everything from grand larceny to murder and then some. He's a professional who can crack any safe and escape any restraint."

"Some sort of super criminal, you saying," Dastun sighed. He already hated this special investigator. 

The comment left Zenigata a bit flustered. "Well, ah, yes. But that's not the point! This guy's really really for real that good at it!"

Dastun sighed again, even more heavily. Surely Zenigata could see his irritation by now. "Look, inspector, I have my own investigation to run here and I can go around chasing after some small-time crook that nobody on the department has even heard of. This Lupin guy is _nothing_ compared to Beck, who was just released from prison last night at his own discretion."

Zenigata pondered this. The Major's choice of words was a bit unusua- "His own discretion?!" he shouted, "You mean a jailbreak?!"

Dastun couldn't believe this guy! "Yes, inspector," he said through gritted teeth, "a jailbreak. Somebody in a giant robot came and smashed a big whole in the cell wall and Beck just waltzed on out."

"Wow," Zenigata was almost impressed, "but that's nothing compared to what Lupin is capable! This Beck guy of yours is small-time! Hell, Lupin was probably in on his escape - he's probly workin' for Lupin! I'm tellin' you, Major, this guy's a genius! We've gotta catch him!"

Dastun's eye twitched, and he was sure that there was a vein on his forehead that was throbbing, though it was covered by his hat at the moment. "Driver!" he called, "Get us back to HQ as soon as possible!" Because this guy's driving me nuts, he didn't add, but he thought it as loudly as he could.

---

  
  


_Author's notes:_

_Mad props to Al for inspiring me to do this, as well lending a great deal of creative support and proofreading this piece._

_Roger and R. Dorothy will make several appearances in this fic, certainly, but this piece is predominantly concerned with Beck and Lupin and their associates. Both Beck and Lupin are going to be rather cut-throat in this fic, much like they were in their respective manga appearances [all good villains should have a dark streak]. Zenigata, similarly, will be a touch more serious than his anime counterpart - he needs a bit of ground to stand on if he's to keep going toe-to-toe with Dastun. [For the purposes of this fic, Zenigata is a special investigator for Paradigm's Main Office, much like R. Fredrick was.] All of the cast from _Lupin III_ is now in place, while much of that from _the Big O_ has yet to appear._

_This will be set entirely in the world of _the Big O_ [at about the same time as "Beck Comes Back"] if only for the fact that it lends itself so well to crossovers. Lupin and co. may as well be average residents of Paradigm, as they lack any memory from before their arrival in Paradigm, as well as of their arrival itself._

_References:_

_- Beck's pissing contest at the beginning of the chapter was a reference to some movie whose title I forget ["Gun Shy", or something to that effect]. Some less-than-awesome affair with Sandra Bullock, but one character had some great lines._

_- Beck's dinner with his crew and Angel comes from the manga version [volume 3, chapter 1]. It's rather close, if not for the whole bathing thing._

_- The black sedan Lupin nearly ran off the road was indeed the Griffin, but it's hardly relevant at the moment._

_- Dastun's and Zenigata's "released at his own discretion" bit came from episode 5 of Trigun, "Hard Puncher". _

  


Lupin III and the Big O are copyrighted by their respective owners, who are the only ones to stand to profit from this, if anyone. 

  


Written to _Lupin III - Original Soundtrack_ and _LateNightTales - Jamiroquai_


	2. Act 02: Chicken Bone

**Honor Among Thieves**

_By Jones_

  
  


Act 02: Chicken Bone

  
  


"My sources tell me that this thing, these memories," Lupin pointed at the map, "are right here. Some big space connected to the sewers. Apparently, this guy figured something out and hid out down here, writing it all down."

Jigen took a long look at the map and assorted documents spread out across the table and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, just who is this source of yours?"

"Huh?" Lupin blinked.

"Who the hell told you about these friggin' memories, Lupin?"

"Oh! Some broad with a weird accent," Lupin shrugged. "Said she didn't want 'the Oedipus' to get the memories. Kinda spooky, really." He took a sip of his wine and shuddered, then added, "she looked kinda man-ish, y'know?"

"No, I do not know," Goemon deadpanned, "and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I know what you mean, buddy," Lupin agreed with a laugh. "She really gave me the creeps." He picked up a photo of the chamber that the woman had given him. There was something about that space that seemed off, though he couldn't quite place it. Nevermind that there was a gaping hole in the ceiling, or the massive tire tracks leading down one of the connecting tunnels. He set the photo back on the table. "Anyway, she said the writer's name was Seebach, and that he'd used the tunnels until just recently. That's all I know."

"She's clearly after these memories, Lupin," Goemon pointed out. "How can you trust her?"

Jigen laughed. "I'd say it's 'cuz she's a beautiful woman, but Lupin here said she was a hound." His demeanor quickly turned serious. "How _can_ you trust her?"

"Simple," Lupin chuckled, "I can't." He took another look at the assorted photos, none of which really showed a damn thing. "I don't like the fact that she's so damn interested in us grabbing these memories and I don't like this 'Oedipus' thing she's talking about." He stood up and turned for the door, motioning for Goemon and Jigen to follow. "Ah well. Just forget it for now, guys. Let's find Fujiko and go check this place out."

---

The man ran down the corridor as fast as he could, the doors on either side fading into a blur as he went on. On the left came an intersecting corridor, doubtless identical to the one he now traveled. Beyond that, at the far end of the corridor, was a single door. So long as it wasn't locked, it would be perfect.

Behind the man were three orderlies, all quite large men, armed with batons and syringes and a straight jacket. Their expressions clearly meant business. The man frantically pulled on the doorknob, trying to force the door open. He gave one mighty pull and lost his grip and fell on his rear. This wouldn't do!

He scrambled to his feet and tried again, this time both _twisting_ the knob and pushing on the door, which just happened to be the secret to opening it. He dashed inside and slammed the door shut, then fumbled with the lock. After he was certain the door was secure, he took a look about his new surroundings.

The room was sealed. There was only one door and no windows, and certainly not any vents or ducts within his reach he could sneak into. He was effectively trapped. Well, that wouldn't do! So the man reached for the nearest object of any significant mass, a fire extinguisher, and turned out the lights. He waited nervously beside the door for the orderlies to come after him. Hopefully, he'd be able to catch them all by surprise and get past them.

Within seconds, the orderlies had reached the locked door and began pounding on it and shouting at the man inside. "Give up," they say, "give up and come with us peacefully! We don't want to hurt you!" Of course, these were lies, but he knew he couldn't stay there forever. He carefully unlocked the door and readied his weapon.

_Bonk! Boing! Crash!_

"Bwa ha ha ha!" Beck roared, clapping his feet in a most comical manner. "That's the best! I love it when they do that!" On the screen before him, the shrimpy man swung his weapon with all of his might and lost his balance and fell, again, on his rear. Then the orderlies all jumped on him and started punching, and soon a cloud of dust rose up around the brawl. All the while, more wacky sound effects poured from the television's speakers.

"Hey, boss," T-bone called, "why're you just watchin' cartoons while we do all the work on this heap?" He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief for emphasis and motioned to Beck's other two henchmen busily working on the towering hulk in the back of the warehouse.

Beck turned away from his cartoons and shot the goon a glare that made T-bone's blood run cold [which was amusing, considering that Beck had been gnawing on a piece of fried chicken at the time - breakfast of champions]. He swallowed his food before addressing his subordinate. "You'd like me to help out, would ya'?" The shorter man nodded nervously. Beck stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter again. "Tough shit, T-bone," he snickered. "I have you to do all the scut work around here!"

"Shit, boss," T-bone sighed, "you oughta appreciate us more." Beck laughed again.

"Appreciate this chicken," he said, tossing a half-eaten drumstick at T-bone.

T-bone took a long look at the drumstick, then took a bite. "Not fuckin' bad," he said with his mouth full.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Beck said with a sigh, "now get back to work!" With a "yes, boss!", T-bone ran back to the other end of the warehouse. Beck returned his attention to his cartoons, but it didn't stay for long.

_Clack!_ The sound echoed through the large space rather loudly. _Clack! Click-clack!_ "Well, Mr. Gold, it would seem that you're hard at work here," a familiar voice called. The clacking sound, now identified as the steps of some rather hard-soled shoes came to a stop just behind Beck. "Now, what might we be up to here?"

Beck turned again to face this new visitor and found himself staring down that woman, Rosewater's secretary. What was her name again? Angel? "Whaddya want?" he asked around a mouthful of chicken. "Can't you see I'm relaxing here?"

"What fine manners you have," Angel mused. "Is that any way to talk to a lady?" She shrugged and leaned forward, returning Beck's stare. "Regardless, I'm here to discuss the terms of your release." Beck snorted and coughed, choking a moment on his food. Angel gave him a quick smack on the back and he gave one last cough before catching his breath.

"Whaddya mean, terms?! That's rich!" he laughed. "I love it! You've got some stones to come to me with conditions for a jailbreak!" He clapped his feet again, still laughing like a madman. Angel merely stared at him with distaste. "Listen, sister," he said, growing serious, "ain't nobody gonna give me terms for my release, legal or otherwise, unless it's the big man himself, and you're no Alex Rosewater."

Angel chuckled. "You're quite astute, Mr. Gold. I'm certainly in no position to dictate terms of any sort to you, yes. However," she pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase, "Mr. Rosewater is the one dictating the terms. You see, Mr. Rosewater is a very busy man and he can't be here at the moment, so he sent me, with this," she pointed at the sheet with a pen, "a death warrant." Beck gulped. "Yes, you see, he has a little job for you to do. If you agree, you'll be free to go. If you refuse, however, I'll have to take this down to the Military Police. I'm sure Major Dastun would be happy to see that you received justice."

Beck glared at her for a moment, a glare much like the one he'd given T-bone earlier, if not a little more dignified now that he wasn't chewing on a mouthful of fried chicken. Angel smiled brightly and he felt his stomach drop. Fine. "What do I do?" 

---

Major Dastun sighed heavily as he settled into his seat and took a good look at the police report one of his sergeants had handed him. It seemed that Beck had been spotted at some swanky restaurant down in Central Dome and that he raised quite a stir. "Shot in the testicles," the report said of the man Beck had confronted in the men's room. _"The suspect is not only armed and dangerous,"_ the officer that had taken the report had written under the "opinion" section, _"he is, frankly, quite mad. The act was absolutely vicious and unprovoked. Has a hell of a case of penis envy."_ Dastun chuckled rather darkly at the thought. It would seem that prison certainly didn't help to reform Beck.

A knock at his door pulled him away from his thoughts. Before he could say "come in", a man in black entered the office and took a seat on the corner of the file cabinet. "Hello, Major," Roger said. "I hear our friend Beck made quite a stir last night."

"I guess you could say that," Dastun replied with something of a smile. He liked Roger, despite the man's irritating nature and habit of constantly getting in the way. He wasn't a cop anymore, so he really hadn't any business coming and going like he did, but Dastun didn't mind too much. Roger was an old friend, if nothing else.

Roger picked up the photo of the two of them and the rest of their old friends and smiled nostalgically. "It's technically not my business, I'll grant you," he said as he set the photo back down, "but I have something of a vested interest in his capture. I do hope he's at the top of your most wanted list."

"You've got a lot of balls to tell me that," Dastun growled. "Listen, Roger. You're not a cop anymore, so don't tell me how to do my job." His expression softened a bit. "But, well, yeah. He's about all I'm concerned about at the moment, so do me a favor and keep your big nose the hell outta my investigation." Roger laughed and waved it off like it was no big deal.

"Well, if that's all, Dastun," Roger stood and stretched, "then I'll be seeing you. I suppose I've kept that goofy looking P.I. out there waiting long enough. But lemme know if you hear anything about Beck, willya?" And with that, he left Dastun in [relative] peace.

"What P.I.?" Dastun wondered aloud when said "P.I.", Zenigata, burst into the office and so rudely broke the little peace Dastun had been left with. "Figures," he groaned, laying his head down on his desk and trying to wave Zenigata off.

The special investigator was apparently oblivious to the Major's efforts to shoo him away and plopped down in the chair opposite Dastun. "Major Dastun!" He poked Dastun, who in turn looked up in irritation. "Major!" he exclaimed again, "I just got a lead on where Lupin is! He's been spotted down in the Central Dome by the scene of that shooting last night!" He pulled a wrinkled map from his coat and pointed at the spot he'd circled. "See, Major? He was right there! Let's go, right now!" Dastun wondered if he'd get life for shooting Zenigata in the face.

"Just go, Inspector," he sighed, again trying to shoo him away. "Take a couple officers and take a look or something. Just _go_."

Zenigata jumped up and bolted for the door, then looked back. "You're coming, aren't you?" he asked. Dastun grunted in irritation and stood up, resigned to his fate. "Let's go then," Zenigata cried, darting down the corridor. "I'm gonna get you this time, Lupin!" 

---

_Author's Notes:_

_A request, rather than a note proper: if anyone can identify Beck's other henchman, the one that looks like a cartoonish Marilyn Manson, or the henchwoman [from the manga version], I'd greatly appreciate it. It simply won't do to have them be nameless for the duration of the fic._

_While not related to the second chapter, this still bears mentioning: upon rereading the first chapter, I find myself somewhat displeased with the final product - It seems that I've overpunctuated it, for the most part, so it desperately needs a good editing. [On a similar note, I find that I'm not particularly fond of how the opening scene for this chapter turned out.] How sad!_

_The bizarre woman Lupin referred to was indeed Vera, which will become more important later on. Note that she's already begun trying to subvert Alex's plans._

_Number of times Beck claps his feet: 2_

_References:_

_This chapter's title comes from a song of the same name from the Cowboy Bebop OST._

_Beck's "appreciate this chicken" line came from Electric Orange [albeit, the chicken in that work was quite alive], a seemingly dead webcomic._

_Angel's and Beck's discussion of the terms of Beck's "release" comes from season two, though that should be rather apparent to anyone who's seen the series in it's entirety. That Rosewater sure is a shifty bastard, innit he? [Nevermind Angel's own questionable methods.]_

  


Lupin III and the Big O are copyrighted by their respective owners, who are the only ones to stand to profit from this, if anyone. 

  


Written to Shades Apart - _Eyewitness_ and Mobile Fighter G Gundam - _Gundam Fight Round 4_


	3. Act 03: The Rascal King

**Honor Among Thieves**

_By Jones_

  
  


Act 03: The Rascal King

  
  


"I hate them," Beck complained, hardly paying any attention to the road. "Both of them. The black guy and the white guy." He thought back on Angel's "proposal". "Steal that Seebach guy's memories, sure," he sighed. "Like I can get the memories outta a dead man's head. Like I can even _find_ that dead man's head! Hell!" He pounded a fist against the dashboard. "Memories! What the hell are they?!" Lost in his thoughts, Beck failed to notice the car in front of him had come to a stop, and therefore failed to stop his own car in time.

He slammed on the brakes, albeit much too late, and the car suffered a declaration of sickness. That is, his car had stopped after it had plowed into the black sedan before him. "Shit," he muttered, rummaging in the glove box for his insurance information [which was, of course, quite fake] and the gun he'd stashed in there for occasions such as these. "Shit shit shit!"

The driver's side door on the black sedan opened and out stepped a man who wore an expression of irritation. A man dressed in... black. Boy, those eyebrows sure look familiar...

"Smith?!" Beck cried. "Why me? Why now?!" He forced the car into reverse and floored the accelerator, eventually hitting yet another car before shifting back into drive and taking off down a side street. Roger Smith merely stood there a moment next to his car and watched as Beck took off, then got back inside and drove off toward his own destination.

---

_Everything contained in that book is a lie: the world destroyed by a cataclysm, giant robots running amok over the Earth, the power of the Creator wielded by the hand of man. Gordon Rosewater's account of the Event 40 years is nothing short of fiction._

Man is a creature that fears the darkness, so he makes fire to scrape away at its edges. He fears the darkness, so he averts his eyes. He fears the darkness, so he tries to displace it. He fears the darkness, so he fears the truth_._

_But, then, perhaps you are all too frightened to learn the truth, to face the dark rather than hide from it._

_Regardless, they will come, and they will battle. The Behemoth will battle Ziz, but the sky will not triumph over the land. Death's blade will follow. Finally, the Behemoth and the Leviathan will battle and destroy the world, and the true Dominus will show himself and the world will be reborn!_

_However, this does not change the fact that you, the people of Paradigm City, live in darkness and fear, unwilling to face the reality that will present itself. Your god is false, as you will be shown at the end of the world! This is not prophecy nor speculation, this is _history_._

_Signed, Schwarzwald_

---

"H-honest, Mr. Gold, I paid!" The man quivered, fully expecting Beck or one of his goons to simply shoot him in the face and be done with it. Of course, this was a huge gamble, trying to scam Beck out of this month's payment, but he simply couldn't afford to keep paying the mob - he had a family at home to support!

Beck stared at the man, reading his face. He didn't look like a particularly dishonest sort, just stupid. Another old fool [at least, older than Beck] who was too dumb to realize he was scamming the wrong guy. "So you already paid, did you, Mr. Anderson?" The man nodded nervously. "Well, then!" Beck grinned and held out his hand, "it's a pleasure doing business with you." The man's expression lifted and he reached to shake Beck's hand.

Beck gripped the man's hand tightly, then slammed it down on the counter between them. "You see, Mr. Anderson, I can tell you're lying. I can see it in your eyes." He held his other hand out, in which Dove placed a hammer. "So, I'm going to have to teach you a lesson. Hold him, boys!"

Dove grabbed the man's arms and pinned them to his sides while T-bone held his head and right hand on the countertop. "You right-handed?" Beck asked.

"Y-yes," Mr. Anderson whimpered. Beck grinned.

"Y'better learn how to do everything with your left, then," He said, still grinning. "Hold on to him tight, boys." And with that, he slammed the hammer down on the man's hand with a loud 'crack'. Mr. Anderson cried out in pain, which only encouraged Beck to continue to crush the man's hand. "Can you hear that, Mr. Anderson?" He asked, swinging the hammer again. "That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of your hand being destroyed."

Beck gave the hammer one last swing before he was satisfied with the bloody mess that had once been Mr. Anderson's right hand. "You see, Mr. Anderson, playing with my money is like playing with my emotions," he said, tossing the hammer aside. "That is, I don't like it and I certainly don't tolerate it. Now, get up." T-bone and Dove pulled Mr. Anderson to his feet.

"I-I understand," Mr. Anderson whimpered, "I'll have your m-money for you..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Beck said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around the poor man's shoulder. "I think this is payment enough." He gave his subordinates a nod and led Mr. Anderson outside. "A noodle restaurant is such a small-time operation that it's hardly worth my time. There's hardly any money to be made."

Behind them, T-bone and Dove quickly poured gasoline on nearly every flammable material in the building [and on a great deal other things]. The left a trail of fuel leading out of the restaurant, right up to Beck's feet, before abandoning their cans and disappearing somewhere behind Beck and Mr. Anderson. "All set, Boss," Dove called.

Beck fished a cigar from his breast pocket and a book of matches. "This," he said, striking a match, "will be payment enough." With his cigar well lit, he dropped the still-burning match into the trail of gas at his feet. The ember at the end of the small stick immediately flared up upon contact with the fuel and a path of flames shot toward the building. Within a matter of seconds, the fire was burning intensely, ruining what little Mr. Anderson had been able to accomplish in his lifetime.

"No!" Mr. Anderson cried. "Th-that's all I have! How could you do this to me?!"

Beck glanced at his watch. "I give the place fifteen minutes, and we're outside the domes. The fire department'll be late. C'mon boys, let's go. I needta find a good body shop."

---

The sound of clapping filled the small bar. "Very good, Dorothy," R. Instro said. "You've made excellent progress."

R. Dorothy stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you," she said, flatly, of course. "Your lessons have been very helpful."

"It's a pleasure," he replied. "Well, then. The same time next week?"

"Of course," a third voice, Roger's, interjected. "She's much less irritating an alarm clock, nowadays," he chuckled.

Dorothy frowned. At least, as much as a perpetually dour-faced android could. "You're a louse, Roger Smith." Roger laughed.

"Anyway," Roger said, "we should get going. I'd gotten into an accident this afternoon, so I'd like to get back early enough for Norman to take a look at the Griffin." He turned for the door. "Thanks again, Instro." Instro nodded.

"Did you back into something?" Dorothy asked, inspecting the Griffin's rear bumper. "I suppose it's to be expected. You do drive rather recklessly."

"Hey, now," he protested, "I'm a damn good driver and you know it! I was rear ended, actually, when I'd stopped at a red light." He frowned, which actually qualified as a frown, as his face actually changed expressions. "And to make matters worse, the other driver took off! At any rate, we really should get home."

---

Jigen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" he asked, waving the letter in his hand. "'Dominus'? 'Death's Blade'? What is this nonsense?"

"Does it matter?" Lupin asked. "We got the damn thing, so let's just get the hell outta here."

"Yeah, this place is real cozy," Fujiko murmured, looking about the chamber nervously. "If you're a spider. Let's go." She shuddered.

Lupin took one last look at the typewriter sitting in the middle of the floor, then at the tire tracks leading down the tunnel before them. A banner in the back of the chamber read "Expo 04", whatever that means. Yes, the place was damn spooky. "Alrighty, then. We're outta here."

The three of them managed to backtrack back to the ladder they'd taken to get down to the chamber, well below the subway, without incident. Well, if the rat that'd caused Fujiko to shriek and jump into Lupin's arms didn't count as an incident. She'd slapped him for his trouble, too. Regardless, they'd made it back to the ladder, then up and back onto the street above without an incident of any significance.

Goemon stood at the manhole dressed in a hardhat and overalls bearing the logo of Paradigm's public maintenance department. "Did you get it?"

Lupin handed his samurai friend Schwarzwald's letter. "See for yourself."

"The end of the world? How pessimistic."

"I know, right?" Lupin chuckled. "But I don't see how Rosewater can't have seen this already. That broad must have more in mind than this stupid letter." He shrugged. "But, ah, forget it. I'm hungry, and I hear that joint up the road is pretty good."

"I know a place where the food's good," said a voice from behind Lupin. "Three squares a day, all free. Here, lemme take you there," Zenigata grinned, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

Major Dastun stood a few steps behind the Inspector, clearly irritated. "You should use those handcuffs, inspector," he sighed. "That is, unless you think it's appropriate to sit here and chatter with the local cons."

"Long time no see, Pops," Lupin said. "And you've got a new friend. Ain't the special?" Dastun growled, but Lupin paid him no mind. "Anyway, how's the spleen?"

"Still spleenin'", Zenigata replied. "But your spleen'll be doing all of it's spleening behind bars!"

Lupin blinked. "Y'must be losin' it, Pops. It'd break my spleen's heart to go to jail, so... toodles!" He sprinted off down the road, laughing.

"Crap! Dammit, Lupin! Get back here!" Zenigata cried, giving chase. "Lupin!"

Major Dastun was not amused. "Inspector!" he called, "what about the other three criminals sitting _right here_?!" Said criminals, however, had made a hasty retreat in the same manner as Lupin, if with a bit more stealth. "Where'd they go?!"

"Get back here, Lupin!" Zenigata shouted again, somehow managing to remove a shoe and throw it at Lupin before stumbling to a stop. "Dammitall," he wheezed, "I need to go to the gym."

Lupin, on the other hand, must have been a distance runner. He was well out of sight before Dastun had caught up to Zenigata, who was struggling to catch his breath.

---

_Author's Notes:_

_This wound up being a great deal shorter than I'd initially planned. I can't tell if that's a good thing or not._

_It turns out that Beck's henchman was named Dove, which simplifies things for me. ["The Greatest Villain", the one episode where he's actually named, has got to be my favorite, by the way.] My request for the name of Beck's henchwoman still stands, however._

_I don't like the flow of the opening scene, but I'm unwilling to rewrite it at the moment._

_It'd damn hard to write Schwarzwald sounding prophetic. Ah well. Anyway, before anyone gets insulted, remember that Alex clearly thought himself as the god of Paradigm City. It's all metaphor, pally._

_The end of Beck's extortion [well, it's a little late for proper extortion] scene was rather forced. I'm not too terribly pleased with that, but I can live with it. For now, at least. [Unfortunately, the two scenes that followed suffer from the same problem. Ugh.]_

_References:_

_The chapter title comes from a song of the same name by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, off of the album "Let's Face It". Wicked good tunes, pally._

_Beck's comment about "the black guy and the white guy" came from episode 26, "The Show Must Go On"._

_The opening of Schwarzwald's transcript was spoken by Gordon in episode 13, "R-D". His statement that "Man is a creature that fears the darkness, so he makes fire to scrape away at its edges" was adapted from one of Rei's lines in _Neon Genesis Evangelion_. Finally, the closing of Schwarzwald's letter is from Chrono Cross. [Lynx was damn shibby.]_

_Mr. Anderson and Beck's inevitability comments are refs to The Matrix. Beck crushing Mr. Anderson's hand with the hammer, however, came from Casino. Oh, and "playing with my money is like playing with my emotions" comes from Friday._

_I wish I could remember where I read [or heard?] the "still spleening" bit. Ah well. I didn't come up with it, at any rate._

  


Lupin III and the Big O are copyrighted by their respective owners, who are the only ones to stand to profit from this, if anyone. 

  


Written to The Mighty Mighty Bosstones - _Pay Attention_


End file.
